Lost Prince
by EK
Summary: COMPLETE. The story of how a young rich samurai became a wanderer. Now has a second installment by popular demand.
1. Chapter 1

Hiya. Didn't feel like reading school stuff, this story settled in my head, so here's a oneshot for you guys. Hope you like, happy holidays, happy new year. Please remember that all this is just conjecture, and may be contradicted someday by Ten no Maki (I'd like my own copy, please!).

…………………………

Wandering around without money has very, VERY few perks. Most days you go hungry. Many nights you sleep outdoors (fortunately I kinda like the outdoors). But you do meet a lot of people, and many of them are really nice. I mean, I wouldn't be alive for much longer if no nice people took me up on my offer to chop wood so I can pay for food and board……I'm starting to rant.

What I like the most about meeting new people is the stories I get to hear. Some are fantasies, some are legends. But most are about other people, and those are the most interesting to me.

There's this one story I heard recently. Quite sad, really, but I couldn't get it out of my head.

I had stopped at one of the smaller towns for the night. I had to beg for a while before someone was kind enough to let me have some dinner. That someone was a man who looked like a grandfather already, and he lived in a large house by himself, just assisted by a few servants. He was glad to have someone chop the firewood for the house. In return, I was fed more rice than I could eat.

He was old, but not very old. As I said, he looked like a young grandfather, a man with graying hair but not frail. Judging from the house and the way he sat with a dignified air, I knew that he had been a warrior in his earlier years, and had received glory and riches for it.

"You said you have been traveling?" he asked me.

"Yes, sir, but 'wandering' is a better term for it," I replied as I scratched my head.

"Have you met a young man, about 16 or 17 years old, about this high?" the old man asked again, and gave a height just two inches over my head. "He is of medium build, and is probably wearing a dark coat…"

I apologized; I had not seen any young man of that description. Besides, why would anyone of that age be wandering alone?

The old man shook his head with much sorrow. "I have a story to tell you."

The look on the man's face made me stop chopping and sit down beside him.

………………………………

This is the story of a prince, of a little kingdom.

It was a very little kingdom, just a mansion with many rooms, and a few fields that surrounded the mansion. But the little boy lived like the emperor's son, and his father like the emperor. There was no queen in this realm, neither were there any princesses. The boy's mother had already died, and he was the only child.

The prince's father had inherited his kingdom from his own father, and he inherited it from his father. They were a proud clan of samurai, known for their bravery and good judgment in battle. The men of the clan owned the current property, and no one denied that they deserved it.

All the men, that is, except the prince's father.

For you see, the man, being neither eldest nor youngest in the family, had no clear responsibility to hold. Furthermore, he always found ways to avoid major obligations, such as being assigned in the main battlefronts. Inside the family, he was hated, and he was notorious for being a coward. The prince was oblivious to all this, being too young to understand, and with none of the servants willing to explain it.

And yet, the prince's father was proud of his heritage, proud of being a samurai. He was always the first with sword drawn if the family's title was questioned by anyone.

"Always remember that you are a samurai, and you should be respected as such, no matter your status in life," the boy's father told him.

It was fortunate for everyone that the boy took his father at his word. It made him less of a spoilt brat. His tutor for sword skills always reminded him that a samurai was respectful of superiors and subordinates, that a samurai used his strength for good. This made him treat the servants kindly, more than his father in most cases. It made him speak reverentially to anyone, more than his father.

It also kept the prince busy, mastering sword skills and practicing at least the basics of the other weapons. Eventually it was discovered that the young man had a good head for the sword. Among the children his age, he had no equal in wielding the wooden sword. Among the adults, there were a few he could actually beat. He dreamed of the time when he would be old enough to fight in the war, to prove his worth in a battlefield, like all the samurai before him.

The years went on, and the wars ended. The boy was still too young when it happened, just about 10 years old.

"I don't care!" he proudly declared. "I'm going to fight! I'm going to be a samurai for real!"

"How, dear boy?" many among the clan teased him. "Are you going to fight the neighbors? Like your father always does?"

"NO, of course not!"

But the men would laugh at his sincere face.

Soon all the living members of the clan returned to the mansion, and claimed their portions. Many of them used the money earned and invested in businesses raised by the rising merchant class. Others bought more fields and farmers, and grew rice. In this way, the clan continued to survive. A little shamed, indeed, but with dignity intact. It was a new age of peace, and they would rather have peace than honorary titles.

Not the prince's father. He was a samurai! He would not become a merchant, he would not become a farmer! The father still tried to live the high life, eating rich food and wearing rich clothes. But no new money was coming in from other places. The military salary was no more.

Even worse, the prince's father began to frequent the pleasure quarter, always armed with money, always gone for at least two days, always returning without money. The prince was always told that his father was just away on obligations. The more malicious among the clan said that his father was just doing what most samurai would do at night. He did not know, and he accepted the explanations at face value.

The furniture in the house began to dwindle. One by one the servants were fired.

By this time the boy was now a young man in his early teens. He could no longer be deceived by his father, or pushed away to play by the servants. Slowly, yet surely, he began to understand.

More and more reports came from the whisperings of the servants and the angry comments of the neighbors. Debts were not being paid. Salaries were not being paid. People were being tricked out of their money.

In all this, the young man immersed himself in his practicing. He trained and tried to perfect whatever skills he learned from his tutors, before they were sent away. If his father did not act like a samurai, at least he would try to be one. He read all he could about the code of honor among warriors, the code of conduct among samurai. He tried to live what he understood as best he could. If his father did not act like a samurai, he would be a samurai in his place.

But in each sword swing, now with a true katana, he threw all his pent-up anger against a role model that was not.

Soon, all the furniture was gone. The food in the house was gone. The father was left with nothing. The prince, also of a proud streak, did not dare beg for his food. He just accepted, gratefully, whatever his relatives gave him in food and clothes, without ever telling his father.

The uncles of the prince begged the father to let the young man stay with them, at least until the father had financial control back. The father always refused. His son will not be a merchant or a farmer; his son will die a samurai.

The last straw came when one night, the young man found his father in his dress uniform. The uniform did not look even the least bit battle-worn, and were neatly pressed after all the years.

"Why are your uniforms still fresh and clean, father?" he challenged.

"Well, you see, I wanted to keep them nice as much as possible…for you…"

"Why are you taking it out now? Is that the only thing you haven't sold yet? Aside from me and my sword?"

"My boy, you see, I could not sell it before. I am a samurai, and I am proud of…"

"Where has your pride gotten us? Have you ever lived up to the title of a samurai? Ever?"

"But, son…."

"I am a samurai, but not because of you. You are a disgrace to the title, a disgrace to the clan, and a disgrace to me."

The young man then walked out. He spent the night at his uncle's house, but did not speak about the incident.

When he returned, someone told the prince that his father was dead.

The man had shot himself in the head with a pistol. All holdings were to be confiscated as payment for debts and contracts. The property would be turned over to the authorities the next day.

The prince did not cry. He did not even frown. But his eyes were terrifying to see. It blazed with determination the people of the house rarely saw.

Someone found the prince as he walked out of the property. He was wearing one of his father's sets of gi and hakama. It was slightly too large on him. He was carrying only a small satchel. The person who found him tried to stop the prince from leaving.

"I'm going," the young man firmly told him. "I'm going to be a real samurai. Not just someone with a title, like my father. I will be a real one."

"How, young master?"

"I don't know yet. I'll find another teacher somewhere. I'll perfect my skills. But I won't come back until I am a samurai for real."

"But the war is over…"

"There are still people to protect, and people to save. I don't need a war for that. I will show him. I will show him what a samurai should be."

And the prince walked away, without looking back.

………………………………

I could only look at the old man with my mouth open.

"At least, that is the story from the servants of the house. Some of them work for me now," he added.

"So, sir, that means you are…"

"I am the young man's uncle. That is why I want to find him. He did not have to leave. I would have given him a good life right here, a respectable life. But I was too late to stop him. Please find him for me. Write back here if you find him."

"What is the young man's name, sir?"

"Katsushiro. Okamoto Katsushiro."

"And how long has it been since he left?"

"Two months."

I surely did not know what to think! Could a rich boy last that long alone in the wide world?

"That boy has incredible willpower, my traveling friend. He is still alive, I just know it," he answered my unspoken question. "Thank you for letting me tell the story."

I thanked the old man for the food and for the story. I promised that I will keep my eyes open for the young man.

There's still a long ways to walk before I get into the next big city. Kougakyo, I think it is. I pity anyone who has to walk there, like I have to. I hope I can find a kettle I can fix up and operate. If that young man has to find his way into it, I hope he had a transport vehicle or at least a transport turtle.

I hope the prince will be alright.

…………………………

Two things I said I would never do: write a long story for S7, and write for Kirara and Katsushiro. I never said I would not write for just Katsu, did I? I didn't feel up to seeing things through his head, so it turned out like this, because I'm quite sure I can think like Hei-san. Thank you for reading, and I hope you liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello to all. I haven't been visible lately because of two things: clerkship (OJT, not good for imagination), and an offer to write my own book.

This is my response to the reviewers who were asking for more (even if they MUST have read the start or end notes that Lost Prince was a oneshot!). Dedicated to all of you: Samuraiko, junyortrakr, Matsuo Michiyo, darkestbeforedawn, Calreflector, narrizan, darksaphire, Ayumi-hime, and Reiya. S7 ain't mine, never will be, although I'd like to keep Heihachi if I could. This is just me taking a break. Very short, but it's not meant to be long anyway.

……………………

No luck. I had to walk to Kougakyo. Two days, it took me, and I only had two rice balls to live on while getting there. I had mastered all the sounds my stomach could make, and all the aches my leg muscles could possibly have. So could you blame me if the first thing I did when I got to Kougakyo was take a nice, long nap?

Wasn't taking a nap in the open, in a large city, rather dangerous, you say? Sure, it was! That's why I carried almost no money on me. My tools were in a satchel I always had in front of me, and they were all metal things that clanged when they hit each other, and I had learned to be a light sleeper while I was in the military. No problem. I just earned what I needed to live on at each city and town I was in.

Kougakyo as a city was calm enough, but it was rather tough for a newcomer. While there were not as many as in other darker places, the city had its share of thieves, robbers, and killers. And there were already a lot of wanderers and masterless samurai without me adding to the number.

It was not as easy to get quick jobs, with all the competition. Many of the shops already had someone helping clean the kitchen or chop the wood. I was running out of sunlight and options.

I had resigned myself to spending the night on an empty stomach when I saw a well-dressed young man walk by. His greenish-black hair was tied in a topknot over his head. His top coat was royal blue with gold buttons. The young man was probably walking home to a large mansion, with a lot of wood that needed chopping. I jumped up and ran to the princely young man.

"Excuse me, young sir," I asked. "Would your establishment need someone to chop wood for them?"

"Establishment? What do you mean?" the young man looked at me, with some disdain. I must admit that I did look rather shabby and dusty.

I bowed. "I'm sorry. I'm a wanderer, and I need to earn money. Does your house need someone to chop wood for tonight?"

"My house? MY house?" the young man began to chuckle bitterly. "I do not have a house, either, good sir."

"No way." I looked at him from head to foot. He was too clean and too well-brushed. It was impossible. "You're ronin, too?"

"Do NOT call me by that despicable title, you…you…poor swordsman!" he glared at me and shouted. "I am a samurai, and I am not some lowly begging wanderer!"

I have been called that, and I have called myself that, for a few years, so the hurt that came with being a ronin had pretty much gone. But the way this, this, disrespectful and arrogant youngster said it… "Words like that can get you killed, young sir," I smiled as icy as smile as I could give him.

"I'm not scared of someone like you," he replied, and placed a hand on his sword.

"I don't want a fight, sir," I said. "I'm just saying, if you really are a wandering samurai, that you should not stand out like a sore thumb. Insulting others will get you killed very quickly!"

"I have nothing to go back to, so what is it to you if I get killed?" he kept his hand on the sword.

"You're too young and too handsome to get killed," I grinned, and started to walk away, not wanting to argue on an empty stomach. "OH, yes, one last thing. Don't flaunt your money so openly, young sir," I told him. "In the big cities it is more than easy for large amounts of money or food to be stolen, before you even know what hit you."

"I know how to take care of my money," he snarled. "No one has stolen from me yet."

"Don't be so sure, all the same, young sir," I said. "Take it from someone who's been there."

We weren't done talking when a flash of color sped by, and I heard the slight clinking of metal. The princely young man in front of me looked around, then felt his pockets, and desperately looked around again. He started running. "GIVE ME BACK MY MONEY!"

Oh, well, I warned him. I started jogging after him. Come on. I was still VERY hungry. And the tools did have some weight to them. Give me a break.

The boy was a fast runner, I will grant him that, and he managed to catch up to the thief after two blocks. But he had been surrounded by other thieves and people I would not want to be with in a dark alley. A kickfest and punchfest had already begun, and the princely boy's hair was pulled from the topknot.

I took out a few screws I could part with, and threw them at the lowlifes. The boy got his opening and ran to where I was, limping and panting. I took off my hat, and bowed to the thugs. "Gentlemen, I would prefer it if you did business with me instead."

The young man hissed, nervously. "Are you sure about this?"

It was not a part of me I wanted to show a lot, but I did take out my katana, still in the sheath. "Young sir, stay behind me."

"Why?"

"Just do it!" I said.

Finally the young man stood behind me, his back to mine, his own sword drawn out.

I kept the katana in the sheath (humans…I don't kill humans unless I had to save my life), and charged. They were lowlifes, easy to deal with a few swipes in the right places, on the stomach and across the knees. A few jumps, me knocking them out at the heads, and that was that. Everybody was on the ground.

To the boy's credit, he did manage to keep his ground and not get any more scratches on him, just blocking sword strikes. He was quite good, surely better than me. He just didn't have the actual experience to deal with lowlifes.

From one of the men on the ground, he took up his small money pouch, placing it back inside his clothes. He spat out the blood in his mouth, and stood in front of me. He looked away, his face red with shame. "Thank you."

"I help anyone who needs it," I said and rubbed my nose. I bowed to him. "Be careful, o-samurai-sama."

He bowed to me, and walked on to the markets. I walked in the other direction, to where the food stalls were. The chances were better that the teahouses would need someone to chop the wood for the evening. I guessed the boy would be alright, even if he did have fancy clothes on. He would protect those clothes with his life if he had to. He was as proud, if not as tough, as the best samurai I have met in my life. Someone would have to kill him before he parted with his last source of good money.

That was when I realized.

I think I just ran into the boy in the story, the lost prince.

……………………

I just got fansubs of S7 and got to see again the first ep, where Katsu told the farmers not to carry so much rice around so openly. I pondered that such wise advise from a rich kid must have been learned from somewhere, the hard way, hence this little thing.

I will not make promises about another chapter (as it is, Staff and Sword is still pending). But I hope you liked this.


End file.
